


Of A Kind

by WolfWagon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfWagon/pseuds/WolfWagon
Summary: “An opportunity has arisen,” the Supreme Leader said, face twisted with satisfaction. “A creature of the light, finally vulnerable.”“Kylo Ren,” the Supreme Leader said, “retrieve it for me.”
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: Fic In A Box





	Of A Kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/gifts).



“An opportunity has arisen,” the Supreme Leader said, face twisted with satisfaction. “A creature of the light, finally vulnerable.”

“Kylo Ren,” the Supreme Leader said, “retrieve it for me.”

* * *

The village was already on fire when Kylo Ren disembarked from his shuttle, a heat he couldn’t feel beyond his mask and robes distorting the air with a wavering haze. The distant sounds of fighting were almost lost beneath the crackling of burning thatch.

Quite the opportunity.

Fire aside, the village was abandoned. There was no one around to stop him, so he followed the direction of the tracking fob until his boots knocked up against a crate, mysteriously not on fire. On top of the crate was an odd little alien. 

It blinked up at him.

The tracking fob gave a blip of recognition, not that he needed it. The alien was glowing in the Force, incandescent with potential. It was no great wonder why the Supreme Leader coveted it. 

He crouched down to bring them level and the little alien’s ears perked up.

“You’re coming with me,” he told it.

Its ears went down.

“Don’t give me that,” he told it, standing to pick it up by the back of its loose sack robes. It dangled pathetically, staring at him with big black eyes. He hadn’t thought to bring a bag, but it didn’t fight against being tucked under his arm like a sack of fruit. The passivity of the light, such a weakness.

Half way back to his shuttle, they were accosted by a short bulky humanoid in distinctly mandalorian armor, radiating hostility and bloodlust. 

Well, that explained the village.

The Mandalorian started to say something but Kylo Ren didn’t give her the chance to posture, yanking on the bright crackling heat of the nearest house and sending it crashing down over his would-be opponent. He’d heard stories of that beskar armor, uniquely resistant to blaster bolts and even lightsabers. While he might once have had an interest in investigating the truth of those stories, his duty to the Supreme Leader has long since eclipsed such childish wants. It was possible it would protect the wearer from the inferno, but it was equally possible she would be cooked alive. Either way, Kylo Ren didn’t have the patience for a long confrontation with a raider.

In his grip the little alien squirmed unhappily.

It was only when he was back on the shuttle that he realized the alien was too small to fit into any of the uniformly adult human sized seats it came equipped with.

He paced a frustrated circuit around the cabin and allowed himself to be soothed by the terror of the junior officer Hux had insisted accompany him as a pilot. “You will accept these conditions. I won’t have you crash landing in _my_ hanger because you’re bleeding out after some ludicrous fated battle, Ren!”

As though Kylo Ren didn’t see right through him.

The pilot went by Renald, but his name was Haro. He had a singularly un-emotive face, which had been useful for playing cards, something he did very often as a consequence of his gambling addiction; he also had terrible luck, which was what had landed him in the debt that had eventually resulted in his contract being sold to the First Order. He was a coward and a traitor, and he’d been collecting information on Hux for Domaric Quinn for the past two months, since his transfer. He thought Kylo Ren was a monster, and he thought Domaric Quinn had assigned him to the Finalizer to die.

He wasn’t wrong.

Under his arm the little alien babbled something. It felt impatient, or maybe it was amplifying his own impatience. He sat in the extreme back corner of the cockpit, jumpseat lit red by the on-board lights, set the little alien on his thighs, strapped them together, and glared at the junior officer’s head.

“A, uh, a s-successful mission, Lord Ren?” the junior officer finally said, twisting to look at him.

“Yes,” Kylo Ren answered. In his lap the little alien tried to wiggle around backward to face him. He held it in place and it hooked its tiny arms over his fingers, ears bobbing, feeling pleased with itself. Which was its own emotion, because they still weren’t moving so Kylo Ren had nothing to be pleased about.

No, he’d secured a powerful Force sensitive for the Supreme Leader, that was something to be proud of. But it was the easiest mission he’d ever been given, easier than picking up steak from the market. Was the Supreme Leader doubting his abilities?

The junior officer kept staring at him, fear bleeding away into curiosity. “What is that thing?” he asked.

Kylo Ren considered choking him, but then he’d almost certainly be reprimanded for wasting First Order resources despite doing Hux the favor of eliminating a spy. That was undoubtedly Hux’s play. “Return us to the Finalizer,” he ordered, instead of killing the man.

Something of his reluctantly curbed intent must have filtered through the mask, because the junior officer spun around and they took off with no further delay.

Once docked, Kylo Ren departed first with the little alien tucked to his chest between his crossed arms. It had fallen asleep shortly into the long, boring ride back to the ship and he was in no hurry to wake it.

“Ren,” Hux greeted as soon as his boot hit the deck. “What, exactly, are you bringing onto my ship.” His inflection made it nothing like a question, despite the contents of the words and his overwhelming curiosity. Behind him, slightly off-center from Kylo Ren’s shuttle, a division of stormtroopers held their stiff salutes.

“A child of the Force,” Kylo Ren intoned, striding past them. Phasma’s best, they didn’t even flinch. They were surprised he was here, though they gave no outward sign of it. They weren’t arrayed for him, some unrelated display of Hux’s.

“You will have it taken to medical and examined for disease immediately,” Hux barked at his heels. As always, he was furiously annoyed with Kylo Ren’s existence.

“A child of the Force is not vulnerable to disease,” Kylo Ren told him, not interested in visiting the Finalizer’s barbaric medical suite. He checked a step so they might walk apace; he couldn’t just ignore him, Hux would harry him relentlessly from behind.

“Oh?” Hux challenged. “And how would you know this _alien_ is not carrying some terrible sickness that hasn’t visibly manifested, just waiting to wipe out my ship? I’m expecting the visit of our very important guests—prospective investors—within the hour, Ren, _as you know_. If you do anything to jeopardize the operations of the First Order, Supreme Leader Snoke will hear of it.”

“Jeopardize the funding of your pet project, perhaps,” Kylo Ren said. He had forgotten about Hux’s _very important_ guests. He continued before Hux could start quoting budget reports, “I have never been ill. Do not concern yourself with the child, it is the same.”

That halted Hux in his tracks, and Kylo Ren stopped with him. He tilted his head, like that would help him contextualize the frothing wave of realization crashing over Hux. Outwardly, all the color drained from Hux’s face, bright furious red to fish-belly white. 

“You,” Hux said. 

Kylo Ren waited very patiently, but Hux just stood there with his mouth open. It seemed a bit like he was going into shock.

Kylo Ren tilted his head the other way. He shouldn’t delve into his mind; Kylo Ren had been scolded too many times for it to invade the man’s thoughts on a whim. Besides, deep down at his core Hux was a storm of emotionality. Deep, deep down. He’d been bound to be overwhelmed by feelings at some point. 

Not that he ever had been before.

It was probably nothing.

“I must report to the Supreme Leader. Good luck with your investors, General,” he said.

“You, that. You. Yes, good luck. Thank you,” Hux sputtered.

Kylo Ren could feel the little alien stirring, just on the edge of conciseness. He left Hux on his own to conclude his uncharacteristic breakdown in the middle of the hallway.

The Finalizer was an extremely large battlecruiser. Even with stormtroopers scattering like birds and officers pressing themselves to the walls at his approach, it took more than an hour to make his way to the Supreme Leader’s dedicated communication’s hub. 

The little alien was well and truly awake at that point, its return to consciousness leaving it ferociously bright, vibrating with curiosity. It relocated itself to the crook of his elbow to better peer at each of the beings they passed. At one point he caught it waving at a retreating stormtrooper.

It turned its glittering black eyes toward him and chittered something.

The Supreme Leader was waiting for him, the flickering glow of his huge figure more true to life than his physical body would have been. He waited for Kylo Ren to make his obeisance kneeling to the floor, the little alien held awkwardly in front of him, before speaking.

“So you’ve done it, and so quickly. I almost wonder at your efficiency in this compared to the other tasks I’ve given you.”

“Supreme Leader,” Kylo Ren said, “I—”

The little alien interrupted his foolish protest, murmuring something comforting and patting his finger with its whole hand. He loosened his grip; he’d been clutching it too hard, not that it seemed to mind.

“You lack conviction, Kylo Ren,” the Supreme Leader said, observing this exchange.

He should have meditated before the meeting, centered himself in the dark. He hadn’t realized how unsteady it had made him, the black rot of the world he’d pulled it from and the dullness of its sleep blunting the glow of the light. The low humming evil of the Finalizer’s bones wasn’t nearly enough to temper it. Even the usually soothing shadow of the Supreme Leader’s presence failed before such concentrated power.

Kylo Ren, of course, stood no chance on his own.

“But,” the Supreme Leader continued, disapproval shifting to distraction as he looked away toward something Kylo Ren couldn’t see, “I think you deserve more responsibility, given your recent successes on the battlefield—and with this. The child is yours. Keep it, until I call for you.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“Do not fail me,” the Supreme Leader said.

Kylo Ren knew it for the dismissal it was. He rose stiffly and took the little alien from the room, back to the main communication’s center. Out of the Supreme Leader’s sight exhaustion crashed over him, and he leaned heavily on the door.

Gradually he became aware that all the communications officers were staring at him. He straightened slowly, turning to regard the closest one, the young Major Blancs, obvious eavesdropper.

“Congratulations, Lord Ren!” he squeaked, not nearly as terrified as he should have been.

In his hands the little alien waved its arms enthusiastically.

Kylo Ren was off balance. He didn’t want to deal with whatever this was.

He turned without a word, intent on going straight to his quarters. Before he even out of the room they erupted into whispers. “But the ears,” he heard, before the door slid shut behind him. He looked down at the little alien. 

It wiggled its ears at him.

He needed to sleep.

Meditation, first.

* * *

He dropped the little alien on his bed. “Stay here,” he told it, pointing a threatening finger. “Stay.”

It blinked at him innocently, the only acknowledgment he was likely to get.

He left it, to center himself in the dark. Gradually the furious illumination of its presence receded until it was a dim, distant glow.

He emerged some time later to an empty room.

The initial search passed in a blur, leaving his room something of a wreck. His bed had been wrenched from the wall and overturned. His table had been wrenched from the floor—and overturned. Unfortunately all that hadn’t turned up the little alien.

He couldn’t fail the Supreme Leader’s task.

The tracking fob, when he located it under the bulkhead, was cracked and sparking. It gave a pathetic little warble in his hand, flickered, and died. He threw it down, frustrated.

He could still feel the little alien. Not far. Somewhere on the ship. He just needed another tracking fob.

He slammed his way into the hall at speed.

On the journey to Supply for the duplicate, instead of scattering at his approach the stormtroopers and officers watched him with burning curiosity, disgust, or pity. It made his already vile mood worse, but he didn’t have time to deal with them.

He didn’t have a choice but to deal with Phasma, because she was planted directly in front of the entrance to Supply, immovable as a wall.

Oh, of course.

“Lord Ren. You can’t go in,” she said, toneless. Phasma never sounded like anything. She _felt_ vaguely apologetic, but mostly amused. Behind her back, like Kylo Ren couldn’t see the obvious motion, she knocked on the closed door.

Instead of responding to her, he waited for Hux to emerge.

“What is it,” Hux snapped before the door had even finished sliding open. Behind him a group of brightly clothed civilians watched them. His investors, no doubt. 

Kylo Ren would have to keep his temper. 

Not that Kylo Ren wasn’t always very careful with Hux, because he was. Partially because Hux was easily the most entertaining of the First Order’s Generals, but mostly because the Supreme Leader had told him Hux was valuable. 

Kylo Ren showed him the broken fob. “I need my rooms to be repaired,” he explained with forced calm. “I lost the child.” Despite his paper-thin tranquility they reacted with unprecedented horror.

“Ren,” Hux said, aghast. _Rabid animal,_ he thought, so loudly Kylo Ren could hear him without even trying.

Hux was baiting him in front of his very important guests, probably trying to get him removed from the Finalizer. Pointless: even if Kylo Ren lived down to all of Hux’s worst nightmares, the Supreme Leader wouldn’t remove him from the First Order’s flagship. But he might be _disappointed_.

Kylo Ren grit his teeth and waited for Hux and Phasma to move aside. Patiently.

The moment stretched thin, just like the tenuous hold he had on his temper.

“Sir,” one of Phasma’s ‘troopers said from where he lurked in Kylo Ren’s blind spot, breaking the tension. He’d slunk up to them discretely, but like all living things his intent burned in the Force. This one went by FN2187, and he was a particularly good marksman. Phasma had plans for him. 

“Sir,” he said again, unsure, when Phasma didn’t acknowledge him. She was still frozen in confusing horror.

Kylo Ren swiveled around to look him over; he was in full armor but holding a mop, stalled in an awkward salute. “Uh,” he said, “sir, that is, Lord Ren. I found him—it. I mean, we found Lord Ren’s child in Maintenance Hallway 7-45? He’s down there eating the rats. I—we weren’t, er, really sure if we should leave him to it or not.”

“Thank god,” Phasma said, without feeling.

“Rats?” one of the investors asked.

“We _do not_ have rats,” Hux assured him with reckless confidence, snapping out of it.

“Not anymore,” the stormtrooper agreed, “—or, there are definitely fewer of them, that’s for sure.”

“Show me,” Kylo Ren demanded, before Phasma could tear into her ‘trooper for flagrant disrespect.

“Uh, really?” the ‘trooper protested weakly. Kylo Ren was already past him, halfway to the lift. He reached out with the Force and dragged the ‘trooper with him.

* * *

The maintenance tunnels were low enough that he had to duck his head to traverse them, which made his bad mood worse but seemed to cheer up his guide a great deal.

“I guess the little guy’s got a lot of growing to do,” he ventured, naturally friendly.

 _What_ was Phasma thinking?

He was certain the little alien could sense his mood, because it was projecting a guilty but smug feeling at him when he finally located it. There was a rat tail dangling from its mouth. The sight reminded him it had been three days since he’d eaten anything.

“I told you to stay,” he growled at it. 

It flicked its ears at him and slurped up the rat tail with nauseating satisfaction.

He picked it up by the back of its robe and held it out in front of himself.

It continued to be smug.

“You, uh,” the ‘trooper said. He made a kind of cradling motion around his mop, “—you should hold him, like. You know.”

* * *

Kylo Ren returned to Supply with it under his arm, like a sack of fruit. Again, frustratingly, it was totally unfazed.

“Lord Ren,” Phasma tried to stop him, but he walked right through her outstretched arm. He had to brace himself with the Force to do it, and the little alien hummed brighter in reaction. It was burning through the darkness he’d dredged up during his meditation. 

“Ren!” Hux shouted. He and his prospective investors were still milling about Supply. They’d set out a range of weaponry on one of the staging-tables, a ludicrous decision considering Hux was such a mortal cog in the First Order’s black wheel. Three of his investors would kill him if given the opportunity. He should have Phasma guarding the inside of the door, not the outside.

“I need a leash,” Kylo Ren explained, pinching one of the little alien’s ears. The Supply Officer, a sleek droid with a bad attitude, went to retrieve his request with a scoff.

“ _You’re_ the Ren? The Knight?” one of the humans said. Her name was Leeiry, and she was only considering this venture because of Hux’s record in patented weapon development. He might be able to win her support, so Kylo Ren did him a favor and acknowledged her, bowing his assent. “And who’s this?” she asked, meaning the little alien.

“That,” Hux said, shoving his way aggressively into Kylo Ren’s space, “is the esteemed Lord Ren’s child. A whole new generation of Knights, in service to the First Order!”

Slowly, Kylo Ren turned to look at him.

Under his arm, the little alien warbled its approval.


End file.
